The Wedding
Semen Petrovich, a 40-year-old fat man with penis cancer decided to get
married.
He proposed to a woman ten years younger than him. He concealed nothing from his
bride, assuring her that he’d live long.
They decided to have a big fat wedding, but a serious one. They took their
friends and chose a place in the country, where stood the house of Irina
Vasilievna, and there was forest all around. They laughed as they were setting
off on an old bus that went once in two days.
The house was indeed spooky and surprising in its loneliness.
“This is the first wedding in the forest I’ve been to,” said Anton, Semen’s
friend.
“You could have picked up a better place for a wedding,” said Nick, Irina’s
former schoolmate.
“Everything’s going to be great here as it is,” said fat Leontiy.
There weren’t many people – about twenty – so they broke the ice quickly. There
was a lot of food and various drinks.
They started with pies and made the just married kiss. Then they drank some
vodka, following the tradition. There were smiles and voices everywhere.
The light couldn’t come brightly through the dirty windows. And they don’t like
electricity in the village.
Anton told the story of his divorce.
“When we divorced, I broke all her dolls with a stick.”
“Dolls?” asked Cleopatra, Semen’s former colleague. “How old was she?”
“Believe it or not,” Anton answered. “I repeat: I’ve broken all her dolls. And I
left only one. Took it downstairs for the kids to play.”
At the other side of the table Nick was hugging a girl who looked strangely like
him, as if she were his female doppelganger.
The local dog kept trying to get between them.
On the left side of the table, an old man rose to say something, but instead he
said:
“It’s over!”
Suddenly, Semen died. It happened within a second, he simply hung his head and
froze in his armchair. They didn’t at once understand what happened. A teenager
slapped Semen’s nose, but nothing happened. Only Irina understood her husband
was dead and she burst into tears.
Everybody was stunned. There was, however, a lot of vodka and food left, and
nobody felt like leaving. And where would they go? It was night, there was no
telephone, and the bus would arrive only in two days. There was no other room in
the house (it consisted of only one room). There was no place where to put the
body. The bride was shocked, her thoughts were perplexed.
Anton suggested dragging Semen’s body to the yard, but nobody agreed.
“Who wants to drag him!” screamed one woman.
“The beasts might eat him,” said Cleopatra, “while we need to bury him
afterwards.”
“Beasts!” shouted Anton. “What kind of beasts would be here?”
“Would shall we do to the body?” everyone asked.
“Let’s leave him here, he’s okay,” said a guest.
Everyone agreed.
“Sure, why would we disturb him,” said a man called Pantheleimon.
“And the bride?”
“Let thing go on as before,” said one spooky guest, “let be bride be seated next
to him.”
“Nobody’s asking your opinion,” everyone said. “What’s the bride’s opinion?”
The bride was okay. She even started to sing, which never happened to her before
for she was too shy.
Little by little the fun went on. They drank and told each other funny stories.
The bride went on singing.
And then that local dog ran to Semen, jumped and bit his ear, baring wildly. As
if it were not an ear, but a something hollow and enticing. The old hostess flew
into a rage.
“What the hell is going on here!” she shouted. “Semen’s soul is now crying,
burning, and this cursed dog is nothing! No beast would behave like that before
a dead man. Beasts have understanding and reason toward dead men. I live in the
village, and I know!”
The poor dog barked at her.
“Kill it!” shouted a man with a glass of vodka in his hand. But the dog jumped
on Semen again.
“This is a crazy dog,” said Cleopatra, scared.
“This is the devil doing,” said Pantheleimon. But the old hostess took a stick
and kicked the dog on the head. The dog died immediately.
“Everything’s going to be fine now,” said someone.
Pantheleimon looked at the dog’s corpse lying on the floor.
“Let’s kick Semen on the head, too? He might resurrect,” he said.
Leontiy said the corpses had to be taken away.
“Enough dead bodies! Enough for one wedding. Let’s bury them! Right now!
Please!”
Pantheleimon shouted, pointing at Leontiy:
“Here’s someone who’s got to be kicked! Look at him! “Bury”! What if they want
to be here with us?!”
But many people agreed with Leontiy.
“We can leave the dog, but we must take Semen out,” they said. “He might be
rotting already.”
“Where do we take him? To the Moon?”
Someone rapped at the door.
Everyone froze.
They rapped again, twice.
“Who’s there?” they asked softly.
“I’m the gamekeeper,” said the man behind the door as if he had heard that faint
whisper.
They opened the door. There stood a large tall man dressed in a fur coat
although it was summer.
“Welcome,” they said to him and offered him some vodka.
“Who’s that?” the gamekeeper asked pointing at Semen.
“This is our groom,” said Cleopatra. “But he is being sad.”
“I don’t like sad people,” said the gamekeeper. “Take him away!”
Nick and Anton took Semen’s body and dragged it into a corner.
“And who is this?” he asked again.
“This is the bride,” said Pantheleimon.
They drank some vodka.
“Irina, I want to marry you,” said the gamekeeper suddenly. “We will live in the
forest. I’ve had seven wives and they all died. Marry me.”
Everyone froze.
While Irina suddenly shouted:
“I agree! I agree! I want to marry you!”
And the wedding continued!
Someone approached the table. It was the dead man, former Semen.
“Pour me some,” he said.
The gamekeeper laughed.
“At last!” he said. “Join us! The wedding continues!” he shouted into the
shocked surrounding.
The End.
Copyright by Yury Mamleev (1998).